Sylvia Mackey has a favorite story about Ernie Davis. Sylvia - whose husband, John Mackey, would become a Hall of Fame tight end in the National Football League - was walking across campus at Syracuse University almost 50 years ago when she came upon Ernie, an old friend, who was also a student there.

He was wearing a magnificent orange sweater, which Sylvia stopped to admire out loud.

Ernie listened to the compliment. Then he took off the sweater and handed it to her. Sylvia laughed. She told him not to be silly, that she didn't want his sweater. But he insisted.

A couple of years later, Ernie - winner of football's Heisman Trophy - would die of leukemia. The sweater, to this day, hangs in Sylvia's closet. "He would do anything for anyone," she said, and the story might sound like a cliche except everyone who knew Ernie has similar stories, to the point where you realize this was an extraordinary human being. That's the focus of my column today. And I attach another tale in "extended reading" that underlines the point.

If I've heard one communal hope about the movie that opens here tonight, it's that it somehow captures those bigger-than-football qualities. As for for any of you met him, or have a story to share, feel free to leave it here, by visiting the forum or by e-mailing me at skirst@syracuse.com.

- Sean

"Ernie at his best," from an SU football package I wrote for The Post-Standard in 1995:

Russ Jacoby describes himself as "a career fourth-stringer." He was a substitute linebacker on the great Syracuse teams of the late 1950s and early 1960s. He watched from deep on the bench as SU won the national championship in 1959.

But it didn't really matter if he played or if he didn't, because his little brother thought he was king of the world.

His brother's name was Ed. Russ was 10 or 11 when the child was born, which means Ed was just a little guy when Russ was at SU. Russ graduated in 1961, but he hung around Syracuse to get his master's degree. He'd often take Ed to watch the Orangemen.

It was on one of these excursions that Russ saw Ernie Davis standing outside Archbold Stadium. Ernie, too, had graduated. He had already begun suffering from the leukemia that would kill him. But he remained an enormous celebrity, the first African-American to win the Heisman Trophy, and a crowd of fans and reporters flocked to him outside the stadium wall.

Russ remembers it so clearly that he can even recall how Ernie wore a long coat, which dangled at his knees. Ed was wide-eyed. Russ had been an invisible man for the Orange, while Ernie had been the program's superstar. But as he looked down at his little brother, Russ felt he had to at least give the threads of friendship one good tug.

"Hey, Ernie!" Russ said, half-expecting a brushoff. Davis looked up, flashed a brilliant smile. He pushed his way over to shake hands and talk. Here he was, the guy who had met President Kennedy, making a fuss over Russ Jacoby!

Young Ed raced off to buy a program for Davis to autograph. Davis lingered, made conversation, made Russ feel like a 'somebody.' "I had tears in my eyes, " Russ says now. Ed got his autograph, and a handshake.

Russ became a geology professor. He is 56 years old. Ed died last year, at the age of 44, from a heart attack. They were both grown men, but a kid brother never stops being a kid brother. This month, when Russ caught that whiff of mowed grass in late summer that always means it's time for football, he found himself thinking about Ernie Davis.